Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
 
Sir W. Scott
 
CXCVI. The Maid of Neidpath
 
OH, lovers' eyes are sharp to see, 
  And lovers' ears in hearing; 
And love, in life's extremity, 
  Can lend an hour of cheering! 
Disease had been in Mary's bower         5
  And slow decay from mourning; 
Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower 
  To watch her Love's returning. 
  
All sunk and dim her eyes so bright, 
  Her form decay'd by pining,  10
Till through her wasted hand, at night, 
  You saw the taper shining. 
By fits a sultry hectic hue 
  Across her cheek was flying; 
By fits so ashy pale she grew  15
  Her maidens thought her dying. 
  
Yet keenest powers to see and hear 
  Seem'd in her frame residing: 
Before the watch-dog prick'd his ear, 
  She heard her lover's riding;  20
Ere scarce a distant form was kenn'd, 
  She knew and waved to greet him, 
And o'er the battlement did bend 
  As on the wing to meet him. 
  
He came—he pass'd—a heedless gaze,  25
  As o'er some stranger glancing; 
Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase, 
  Lost in his courser's prancing; 
The castle-arch, whose hollow tone 
  Returns each whisper spoken,  30
Could scarcely catch the feeble moan 
  Which told her heart was broken. 
 
 
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